


Four Years of Hiraeth

by TheSilverNightshade



Category: ColbertElectionSHO - Fandom, Jon Stewart - Fandom, Stephen Colbert - Fandom, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (TV), election - Fandom
Genre: 2016 election - Freeform, Drabble, Dystopia, Frustration, Jon Stewart - Freeform, M/M, One-Shots, Series, Stephen Colbert - Freeform, basically like a depressing alternate reality except this is our reality, election, ongoing, solemnity, this is basically a dystopia guys damn, trump presidency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverNightshade/pseuds/TheSilverNightshade
Summary: The results took the nation by surprise, particularly Stephen and Jon, who would now have to come to terms with a hellish four years they had ardently attempted to prevent.





	1. The Beginning of the End

Saying that the election of 2016 had taken everyone by surprise was a complete understatement. It hadn’t just shocked the Americans: it had utterly shocked and horrified them to the core, leaving them wondering if _this_ was the only thing their country could offer, and how this could possibly be the current state of the nation. Every election had its quirks, but this one exceeded it. It was like watching a bunch of screaming human meat sacks spew a slew of lies whilst pandering for votes.

No one expected that a sexist, xenophobic conman would make it this far, but he did. Yet there was still a sense of doubt, and a strong feeling of confidence that his ride would come to an end when the general election rolled around. The pundits knew it, and so did the pollsters and political scientists. Stephen Colbert also shared this notion before his live show started, completely ready to announce the end of the election, and the end of Donald Trump’s chances of leading the country. Jon had practically patted him on the back, telling him he’d nail tonight. Then the votes came in, shattering his short-lived sense of security.

One by one, the results trickled in. Florida. Iowa. Ohio. Each equaling a stab at his hopes that slowly drained away the energy he started off with, until all he could do was lie in bed and wonder what the fuck just happened. He tried to sleep, tried to tell himself it hadn’t been called yet and that his special hadn’t turned into a live disaster, but then he got the call at exactly three am while he lie wide awake.

“Ah, um…I don’t think I have to tell you to sit down for this one.”

“No, Jon, I’m clearly in bed as it’s clearly three in the morning.”

“You know that guy you said could never be president? The one who said he’d grab a woman by her…uh…delicate area? The one who said, and I quote, ‘as long as you’ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass, it doesn’t matter what the media writes’? Well, he’s going to be the president.”

**“Fuck.”**

At this point, It wasn't surprising. The results he _had_ seen implicated this ending, but hearing a confirmation sealed their doom.

Stephen knew what a Trump presidency meant. Jon knew it. The entire portion of America that hadn’t voted for Trump knew it. It’d mark the beginning of a mob mentality filled with fear mongering and a cycle of hatred. It’d mark the beginning of regression and repealing all the decisions that had been made to progress the nation. It’d mark the beginning of a big flaming turd of a disaster Green Day had always professed.

Ever since the Jon Stewart era of The Daily Show, both men had ardently purveyed the importance of taking a closer look. Not giving into an orchestrated rouse. And most importantly, sniffing out the bullshit and speaking up rather than taking the easy way out by keeping silent and allowing oneself to conform to what Orwell coined as doublethink.  Though their shows mainly revolved around comic relief, they simultaneously informed thousands, and exposed hypocrisy and lies many news stations failed to do. Especially Fox. They spent a good portion of their entire Comedy Central careers doing this, and now the country had elected a racist bigot to office. They knew it wasn’t their fault, but it left them feeling a great sense of inadequacy, as if everything they had advocated for was just in vain.

“I…don’t know how I’m going to uh…face the entire nation tomorrow. I don’t really feel inclined to either as the very caricature of what we’ve been discouraging since the Daily Show has just won the most powerful office in this country and has sole command over our nuclear weapons. We’ve literally got a screaming orangutan as our national representative, Jon, and he was put there by free will. That’s not exactly encouraging.” Stephen admitted after a long period of silence.

“Listen, Stephen, this clearly isn’t the ideal outcome we were all hoping for but you’ve got to do this regardless. Maybe a good chunk of the United States was duped by fear and anger, but think of it this way: for the next four years, you have to keep everyone’s sanity in check so that they don’t commit homicide. And you’ll never run out of headlines or material.”

“Hey, question. Are you free tomorrow night, say, after the show ends?”

“I’m not exactly doing much at this point.” He replied, his typical snark dripping from his tone.

“Good, because I heard alcohol helps mask things and I plan on getting hammered.”

“I probably should object to this but I don’t.”

“One more thing, you left because you thought this election would be oh so normal. I hope you’re silently beating yourself up about this, Stewart.”


	2. De-Patronization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't have to go with me"  
> "But I still will."

  **Day Fourteen**

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks, yet the constant stream of never ending headlines made it seem as if the days had turned into months. Waking up every morning meant forcing yourself to accept that the moment you turned on any device, you’d be hit with a flood of information that borderlined on both distressing and painfully retarded. It turned into a game of, ‘what government service was scrapped, which human right was violated, and how soon will we be nuked today?’

Perhaps some people could cope with the new reality of the nation’s new state, but  Stephen was not one of those people. It was evident from the moment he practically dragged himself into the studio, his half-assed attempts to straighten his disheveled hair clearly ineffective.

“Seriously Stephen. Another sleepless night?”

“No! Of course not. I was able to afford the most refreshing night’s sleep in decades regardless of the fact that a guy who tweets his latest thoughts about The Bachelor whilst shitting on a golden toilet at four am has the nuclear launch codes. The fact that there might not _be_  a country tomorrow doesn’t bother me at all, and I can tell it definitely doesn’t bother you! So the bottom line is: I’m doing fantastic!”

“I get it. The two week mark until Trump’s presidency is distressing, but you’ve got a two hour writer’s meeting in five minutes, a dress rehearsal in three hours, and a show to run in six, on top of a rescheduling technicality you’ve got to address, so I’m going to have to be that corporate asshole who reminds you the state of the world isn’t important today.”

“If you’re going to blame anyone here, Vicks is responsible. I had to drive myself here, and hallucinating about men in tight leather outfits on the highway because of Nyquil’s ten percent alcohol content isn’t exactly ideal.”

At this point, his remarks about developing insomnia and nihilism were more of realistic confessions than they were jokes or attempts to save grace.

But the state of the world didn’t matter. He had a show to run. And he had to run it effectively.

* * *

**Day One Hundred**

He held a crystalline glass in his hand, swirling it around aimlessly to kill time. The water reacted to the movement, sloshing until a miniature vortex formed in the center. A metaphor for how one decision in the election could cause a volatile reaction, he figured. Though he refused to lose his faith in the the ‘greatest country in the world’, though he refused to lose faith in the _people_ who stood up in an attempt to fix the broken chain, though he attempted to stand before cameras with cautious optimism for the viewers’ sake -and perhaps in some ways, his own- he couldn’t quell the nagging concern that lingered in the back of his mind.

He was Stephen fucking Colbert, and regardless of not having his alter ego to hide behind anymore, he refused to be silent. He refused to go down without spewing out what everybody felt, but didn’t have the platform to project, with just enough language to make CBS’s censorship team work overtime.

But he also knew that it’d come to an end eventually.

And that end was dangerously close. 

* * *

**Day One Hundred and Twenty**

“Congratulations”

“On?”

“The ratings, Stephen.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, people are finally searching up ‘The Late Show With Stephen Colbert’ instead of ‘James Corden’. I’m really moving up in the world, Chris.”

It’d be the last congratulatory remark he heard.

* * *

**Day Three Hundred and Sixty Five**

It started with the scientists. Particularly the ones who were currently researching and publicizing findings in support of climate change’s existence. Slowly, it progressed to journalists. And ended with him. The basis was something along the lines of a new term the commander in chief had coined at two in the morning on twitter: de-patronization.

The following day, a press conference was held.

“The President has determined that the state of nation cannot progress if its own citizens are exposed to toxic misinformation. How can the United States be great again if its residents don’t even believe in it? Therefore, he has issued a resolution to this matter. The toxic media who have caused this vicious cycle known as de-patrionization will no longer be allowed to continue their spree of never-ending fabrications so we can finally come together as a country. They don't care about our country, nor do they express any respect for the highest office we have. How is any other forigen entity supposed to respect us while our media is making a mockery of our political system?”

With one simple statement, Stephen was a wanted man. And no amount of lawyers or reasoning could change it. 

* * *

**Day Three Hundred and Seventy Seven**

It was one of those days where every word you spoke turned into a visible, tangible white cloud, and your hands would stay clammed within any pocket you had on you. Every footstep crunched against a precariously ice-layered ground, the sleek coating reflecting the boots that would smash it.

The weather rendered the streets uncharacteristically empty, say for a lone figure standing on the sidewalk, expression as blank as the empty streets. For a while, it remained that way. One silhouette stopping to steal a glance at a phone screen before returning to stare straight ahead. Until another began to approach, stopping in front of the previous one.

“You don’t have to go with me, Stewart.”

“But I still will. Besides, I’m damn sure I’m on some watch list anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell. It's almost been a year since my last update??? Normally I use writing as an excuse to procrastinate. But somehow I procrastinated on procrastinating. Someone give me an award.
> 
> Hopefully, you find that my writing isn't too rusty or out of character.
> 
> By the way, thank you for all the incredible feedback! You guys legitimately made my month.
> 
> Finally, I'm a nooby Archive of Our Own user so I'm not sure why the note from the previous chapter magically transitioned below this one. Oh well.
> 
> Tldr; I still live. And I still intend on keeping this going. Even if I'm abusing the English language.

**Author's Note:**

> Like most of the world, the election left me bitter. When the results came in, I immediately thought of these two guys who are probably hurting the most right now, and I felt an urge to make some sort of ongoing series to help us all cope with the shit that may come our way as a result. I began typing up my ideas at 1am that day, and finished just now, then I realized the fantastic noblet posted a story that did this much better justice than I could do haha. (totally haven't been stalking their works before I created this account like a creep)


End file.
